


Evil Author Day 2016

by MonPetitTresor



Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angel Sam, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cambion Spencer, Drabbles, Evil Author Day 2016, Evil Lucifer, Fluff, Hell, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Spencer, Hybrids, M/M, More tags to be added, Nice Lucifer, Smut, Snippets, The Cage, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil Author Day: Here's a collection of snippets and drabbles and clips of things that might or might not come out over this coming year. They're bits of ongoing and incomplete projects that I post to tempt and entice readers. BUT, there is the danger that these may never be completed. They are my hope, however, to go into stories through this year. Enjoy (grins)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Emptiness

One of these days they were going to learn how to do their research right before they went into a house. Sam Winchester ducked down to avoid the last of power that was being sent his way and tried not to shiver at the electrical current that seemed to prickle over his skin as the power went right past him. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. He looked over just as his brother dropped down, hitting the ground and sliding to reach safety and only just barely making it.

They’d done their research. This was supposed to be a simple case against a single witch. Nothing that they’d come across had suggested that this was a damn _coven_. They’d already taken out most of them and now it was just down to the final witch, the coven leader.

Sam tried not to snarl. This was what he got for letting his brother get away with doing some of the research. He should’ve known better. Castiel and Dean had only recently pulled their heads out of their asses and decided that they could recognize that, hey, they loved one another. Too bad it had taken an apocalypse, Castiel trying to be God, the leviathan, purgatory, the angels getting cast out of Heaven, all of them dying or almost dying so many times in through all that, and the freaking _Mark of Cain_ for them to finally realize it. It was great that they’d figured it out, though. Really it was. It just wasn’t so great when it came time to do things like research for a case, something that Dean already could be a little sloppy on.

He should’ve just done it himself. Groaning, Sam gripped hold of the gun in his hand and looked over to where his brother was braced. It only took one look between them for them to figure out what to do next. Everything else in their life might suck right now, but this was one area they could always work together on. Sam read his brother easily and nodded his understanding. On the count of three, the two launched up from their hiding spots.

It only took one quick move on Dean’s part—no way anyone but Dean was playing bait here—and then Sam had just the right shot, just perfect.

Their firefight ended almost as quickly as it started when Sam’s bullet struck true.

“Jesus.” Dean groaned as he straightened himself back up. “What the hell, dude?”

Now that there was no imminent threat hanging over them Sam felt free to turn his scowl towards his brother. “I don’t know, Dean, you tell me. Cause you’re the one that said ‘It’s just a witch, Sam, it’ll be easy’.”

Dean didn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed. He snorted at Sam before walking over to look down at the witch. He started to say something only to get a suddenly curious look on his face that had Sam moving up to join him. “Do you see that?” Dean asked. He and Sam both squatted down, one on either side of her body, as Dean tilted his head in a gesture way too reminiscent of Castiel. “What is that?”

There was only a small flash of something that Sam could see, some twisting design on what might’ve been a book, and Sam couldn’t explain the bad feeling that leapt to life in him. It was one he’d learned to trust, though. “Dean, don’t!” He reached out, trying to knock his brother’s hand away before Dean could touch whatever it was he’d found. Anything on a witch’s body couldn’t be that good. But in his hurry and panic he overshot a little and there was no time to catch himself as he tumbled forward. His hand slapped down on the ground—and right overtop the very item that Dean had been looking at.

A wave of cold washed over Sam in a jolt as sharp as lightning.

In one second, the world went black.


	2. Mostly Human AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU where Sam still has powers (Visions, empathy, telepathy, like his powers all jacked up) but everyone else is human and Azazel is an experimenting bastard who screws Sam's life over.

_Sam Winchester was six months old when he lost his mother in a fire that would change his life. He was too young to know what was going on, too young to hold any real memory of the woman who gave up her life to save him. But he grew up knowing that someone very evil had tried to do something that night in his nursery and his mother had barely been able to get Sam out to John before the fire consumed what had once been his room. He knew that his father knew little about the man, only that he’d had yellow eyes, and he knew they were running from him even as John tried to find a way to take him down._

_For Sam, growing up in various motel rooms across the country was normal. That was just how his life had been for as long as he could remember. He’d grown up hiding out in sleazy motels while his father tried to track the man who had killed his wife, while all the while John worked to keep his boys safe. Sam never knew his mother’s touch. He held no memories of her singing to him, or holding him, or laughing and dancing as she made a batch of cookies in the kitchen – not like Dean did._

_There was just a vague sense memory that Sam carried with him, this feeling inside that he always got when he thought of her, and the five year old boy once told Dean it felt like Christmas and cookies and sleeping in the sun all rolled up into one. Dean had just laughed. At nine, he hadn’t believed in silly things like that._

_Later, when Sammy told John, his father had paled before pulling Sammy up onto the couch and asking him questions. Questions like “Do you feel that for everyone?” and “What do I feel like to you?” And the more that Sam told him – John felt like leather and smoke and whiskey and big tight bear hugs, and Dean felt like warm blankets and quick hugs and freckles and sunshine and apples – the more that John knew what this was._

_That was the day that Sam learned that he’d inherited more from his mother than just her eyes or her smile. He’d gained her Gift. “Your mother was psychic, Sammy.” John told him. Both boys were listening intently. “She called it the Gift. Sight. She could See just a little bit, not anything big, and sometimes feel things. It was how she…how she knew to go to your room that night. She felt it. It looks like you have it too.”_

_John did the only thing then that he could do for his boy. He gathered them up and went to see a woman his wife had known, someone who could help teach Sam how to use what he had and how to keep himself safe with it. Sam, with all the joy and ease of every five year old out there, was excited to learn all about this special part of him, this part that was just like Mommy._

_Years later he would realize that this wasn’t a gift, it was a curse, and it was one he was never going to come clean of._

* * *

It was the smell of coffee drew Sam out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen of the small house that he shared with his older brother. It wasn’t all that surprising to find Dean already at the table with a cup of coffee and a plate full of his typical grease filled breakfast. The thirty-two year old police detective was used to early morning hours and occasionally even around-the-clock hours. In the last town they’d been in, his day hadn’t started till nine a.m., though he was always up a bit earlier than that to shower and have his breakfast. With his transfer here to the Angel Falls PD, he was going to have to get up a bit earlier. His first day there tomorrow would start at eight a.m. instead of nine.

They’d gotten pretty lucky on getting Dean’s transfer here as well as how quickly it went through. The two had moved in over the weekend, spending Friday and most of Saturday unloading stuff into their new house, and today would be spent getting themselves some food and really settling in before Dean started work bright and early Monday morning. It was quick, but that was just what they needed.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face and smothered a yawn while he shuffled into the room. He saw his brother’s eyes flick up towards him, an immediate check and assessment that Sam was far too used to. When Dean saw his face his own lips curved up just the slightest bit. All it took was that one look for him to know that last night had been one of Sam’s good nights. “Mornin’, Sammy!”

Rolling his eyes, the twenty eight year old waved on his way to the coffee pot. He smiled, though, as he skirted the box on the ground. It was hard not to smile in the face of Dean’s good cheer. The warmth of it saturated the room like sunlight and Sam let himself soak it up. It was mornings like these that made the other ones a bit more bearable. When the bad nights rolled around and Sam woke screaming and shaking, the memories and visions clawing at his brain, he held on to the memories of mornings like these, anchoring himself in them and reminding himself that they would come around again. The bad night would pass and the good days would return. They always did. This had been Sam’s life for so long now that he barely remembered a time when he hadn’t lived this way.

Once he had a cup of coffee all made up, sweetened with plenty of sugar and just a bit of that crappy powdered creamer they had on hand, Sam made his way over to the table to join his brother. He snorted a little when he saw Dean beaming at him around a mouth full of eggs. Sam lifted his right hand and pressed the back of it underneath his chin, bending and unbending his fingers in the sign for ‘Pig’.

In retaliation, Dean opened his mouth wide to show off all the chewed up food. He ended up laughing and almost losing the mouthful when Sam glared at him in disgust.

"Bit early for that bitchface." Dean teased him, finally managing to chew and swallow his bite.

Sam shook his head and lifted both hands free from his coffee cup. "You have the worst manners." He signed to him.

Rolling his eyes, Dean lifted his own hands; only, what he signed wasn't the least bit polite, proving Sam's point about his lack of manners.

The easy bantering had Sam relaxing even more while he enjoyed his morning cup of coffee. These were his favorite kinds of mornings. The kind where they could just sit together and relax and be easy and not have to really do more than pick at one another and bicker just like any other set of brothers in the world. This was Sam's one save haven, a place he knew he would always be able to be safe and free, and he never took that for granted. It had been rare so many times in his life. The only person who had ever offered him this kind of safety, consistently, had been Dean. Without him Sam had no idea what he would do.

There was only one time in Sam's life that he could remember Dean not being there for him and it hadn't been by choice on either of their parts. For a little over two years the brothers had been kept apart. It was something that Sam had never blamed him for, yet it was something Dean never stopped trying to make up for.

He was the only person who had never flinched away from the ‘abilities’ that Sam had. As a child, he’d treated them as a gift and had been excited right alongside Sam for him to learn how to control the visions and the empathy. He’d let Miss Missouri teach him how to shield his mind so he could become a steady rock for Sam to ground on if things got bad, and he hadn’t hesitated on it even once.

Even after…well, _after,_ Dean was still there, more so than ever before. It didn’t matter to him that his brother had change. It didn’t matter that Sam no longer spoke, or that his powers were stronger and more out of control than ever before. Dean didn’t walk away from any of it. He stayed with Sam when the visions were out of control, held him as he sobbed out his pain at what he saw. He kept up his shields and let Sam use him as an anchor when Sam’s own damaged shields refused to hold and he was subjected to the agony of feeling people’s emotions and hearing their thoughts without any sort of filter. In those moments, Dean acted as a filter for him, staying steady and strong and keeping Sam from going insane. He was the only one who could touch Sam when he was like that. The only one who could hold him without making the pain worse. Even when Sam’s other powers flared up, the things that he kept so tightly under wraps he could almost pretend they weren’t there, Dean never hesitated, never flinched. He’d wade right in as the room trembled and objects flew off the walls and he’d wrap Sam up and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

Sam shook off the melancholy of those thoughts and drew himself out of his own head. Bad days happened often enough on their own – there was no point in bringing his own mood down and creating one.

“So I thought we’d go grab some food today.” Dean told him, scooping up the last bite of his breakfast and shoveling it into his mouth. He talked around it, a disgusting display that Sam was used to. “Then I figured maybe we’d go drop by the Roadhouse and see Ellen before she gets pissed at us for not dropping by sooner.”

Ellen was an old family friend that the Winchester boys had known since they were just little. She was also the reason they’d had come to Angel Falls.

When they’d come to the decision that staying in their last town was no longer an option, they hadn’t really had any idea of where to go. A phone call to their closest family friend, Bobby Singer, and he’d put them in touch with the Harvelles. The Harvelle family – Ellen and her daughter, Jo, who wasn’t much younger than Sam – ran a bar called the Roadhouse that was pretty popular around Angel Falls. It was Ellen who’d suggested they come here so that they could be somewhat close to someone. Not only that, but she’d helped them set it all up as well and even got Dean’s transfer to the local PD through quickly thanks to her connections down at the station with the Sheriff, Victor Hendrickson.

After that it hadn’t been hard to find a house. Money wasn’t exactly an issue. It hadn’t really been an issue for quite a few years now. Not since Sam – or, Sam Wesson, as he was known – sold his very first book a little over five years ago. He’d just finished book four of the series six months ago and fans were already screaming for the next. The world had fallen in love with the story of Jared Padalecki, a powerful psychic, and the hard-nosed Jensen, the police Detective who was forced to work with him. Sam had written the first story a long time ago as a form of therapy that one psychologist had suggested to him as a way to work through his own issues. If only the public knew how much of the story mirrored his real life. He’d just changed the names and a few important details. But each case in the books was inspired by a case that his brother had worked, and that Sam had helped solve.

What it all meant for Sam and Dean was that they didn’t really have to worry about money. That wasn’t at all an issue for them. It also meant that Sam was free to stay at home instead of trying to attempt to hold down a real job. They’d tried that with him once or twice and it always ended in disaster. The mental shields that he held around himself and his powers was better than it used to be but it would never be perfect. It was too damaged. Sam could keep it up most days and keep out the flow of thoughts and emotions, sometimes even the visions that plagued him and the migraines they came with. But some still slipped through. The more he was exposed to high volumes of those things, the more of a battering his shields took and the quicker they fell down.

Better to stay home as necessary. It was safer that way. Writing, he could hide out here at home on his bad days, and on his good days he could go out for short bursts. Or he could go out with Dean, which was always easier. His brother was the solid rock that Sam had built everything on. With Dean there, his shields stayed up longer, and just close proximity with him could help Sam calm enough to build them back up if they started to fall.

With today feeling as good as it did already, Sam didn’t mind the idea of going out and shopping or visiting the Harvelles. He looked forward to seeing some friendly faces, actually. And anything that got him out of unpacking the multitude of boxes still sitting around here was definitely a good thing. “I’d like that.” He signed. “But we should save shopping for last so we don’t have food in the car.”

“Sounds good.” Dean pushed up from the table and carried his plate and glass over to the sink. “Why don’t you go fix up your hair then, Princess, an put on some clothes. We’ll head out in ten an I know how you like your makeup perfect.”

Even though Dean was over at the sink, Sam knew his brother was still twisted enough to see him. Confident in that, he rose from the table and gave the familiar sign that they had made before they’d even learned sign language, one that was their own personal gesture equivalent to when Sam had used to call his brother a jerk.

Seeing it had Dean laughing. “Bitch!” He called after him down the hall.

Sam was still grinning when he reached his room. Yeah, today was going to be a good day.

* * *

The Roadhouse was the same as it had been all those years ago when John Winchester had passed through it with his boys in tow. Little things were different, some chairs and tables had been replaced and other such things like that, but the atmosphere was the same even with the bar closed. They wouldn’t open until ten, the sign on the door said, even on a Sunday, but Dean didn’t hesitate to beat his fist against the door until it was yanked open to reveal a pretty blond with a fierce glare. That glare melted away as soon as she saw who it was. “Dean! Sam!”

“Hey there, Jo.” Dean greeted her warmly, sweeping her up into a hug that cleared her feet off the ground and had her laughing.

Behind her, another voice called out to them. “You two quit playin’ in the doorway and let poor Sam inside.” Ellen said. She was grinning as Sam came in, though, and her eyes were bright and warm on him. He could feel the happiness that was pouring off of her in a way that left him no doubt just how glad she was to see him. “Sam. Come over here and let me look at you, honey.”

Ellen was one of those people that knew enough about him to not just come right up and initiate contact with him. She let him come to her and waited until he reached out before she moved to hug him. Though she was smaller than him – at six foot four, he towered over pretty much everyone – she had this way of making him feel like a kid when she hugged him. It was the closest that Sam could ever remember coming to a mother’s hug and he cherished the feeling each time.

When they broke apart, she held his arms for a moment and he held still, smiling fondly, as she ran through a familiar perusal. He knew what would be coming next. Sure enough, “Don’t you feed this boy, Dean?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean was grinning as he sidled up to them and got a hug of his own from Ellen. When they pulled apart, he jerked a thumb towards Sam. “Bitch at him. He’s the one that’s been forgetting to eat. I have to drag him out of his room.”

Ellen smacked Dean on the arm and shot him a firm look. “Don’t swear at me, boy.” Then she turned and gestured for them both to follow her. “Come on back. Breakfast is over but I’ve got some cinnamon rolls still left. You boys come sit down, eat, and tell me about how you’ve been.”

As they went towards the backroom, which had a staircase that led to their apartment above the bar, Jo moved up to Sam’s side and the two shared a quick sideways hug. She flashed him a bright smile and he shared one with her in return. Jo was kind of like the little sister they’d never had and she was important to them. Sam had to admit it was good to be here, good to see her and Ellen and to know that they going to be close by. He could only hope that this town would be much easier for them than the last few towns they’d been in.

It felt good to sit down at the table in Ellen’s kitchen and listen to the voices of his friends and family washing over him. Their emotions were warm and pleasant as a summer’s day and the thoughts that buzzed around were steady and muted, not loud and demanding as could happen sometimes. For Sam, this was as close to perfection as he could get. There were no questions about why they’d moved. No talk about anything that had happened, or his past, or his visions, or any of it. The group just sat there together and talked about good things and happy things and moments they’d missed out on or memories they all shared. He was able to relax and talk with people without worrying about whether or not he’d be understood or being looked at like the fact that he couldn’t speak suddenly made him so much less intelligent in the eyes of who he was talking to. Even if Sam ended up signing too fast or using ones that the others didn’t know, neither Ellen or Jo had any issue with Dean supplying the words for them. They didn’t act like it was weird that he always knew what Sam was saying, even if he was barely paying attention to him.

By the time they left Ellen’s two hours later, Sam was much more relaxed than he’d been when they’d gone in. ‘Thank you’ he signed to Dean once they were in the impala.

His brother flashed him a huge grin while he started off the car. “Told you it’d be fine. Things are gonna be great here, Sammy. I can feel it.”

‘I thought I was the psychic one.’ Sam couldn’t help but tease.

“Your creepy mumbo jumbo must be rubbing off after all these years.”

It was the same banter that they’d done half a million times before and yet it made Sam grin now. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe this town was going to be different – better. God knew they’d lived in enough during his lifetime. It’d be nice if they really could finally settle down and plant some real roots. He’d hoped the same with the last town and they’d managed almost a year before things had gone south. But maybe this town would be different.

Sam watched the town outside his window as the car headed in the direction of what Ellen had claimed was the best grocery store in the city and he hoped that he and Dean were right. It’d be nice to finally have a home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just after Sammy gets back his soul, he gets a visit from a woman claiming to be.... his child??

For the first time in days the motel room was quiet. Sam Winchester sat back on his bed and leaned his head against the wall with a soft sigh, relishing in the lack of sound. It was so rare for him to get quiet like this; there was no way he was wasting it. They’d just finished a case, so there was nothing pressing waiting there. Dean was outside fixing a problem with their current car, which gave him an outlet and left Sam with this momentary reprieve. Even Lucifer was quiet. That was the best part of all. Usually if there was any sign of him being alone, his hallucination would come out to play, taunting him, testing him, pushing him. But right now all was blissfully quiet.

It felt kind of strange, actually, to be without the hallucination that had become his almost constant companion. Sometimes he worried about just how used to it all he’d become.

He pushed all of it out of his mind and turned his attention to the book in his hands. There was no way he was going to waste any of this. What good did it do him to sit and think about his hallucinations in one of the rare times that he wasn’t actually _seeing_ anything? With a content sigh, he started to read.

He only made it through one chapter before the quiet of the room was broken. Honestly, it was longer than he’d thought he’d get.

Only…the sound that pulled his attention away from the book wasn’t something that he knew or recognized. It was this low, humming. A vibration that grew steadily louder and louder. Sam dropped his book off to the side and sat up a little straighter in bed. One hand went to the knife under his pillow while his eyes started to dart around the room. This didn’t have the feel of his normal hallucinations. He usually saw Lucifer, or something that Lucifer had made up. This—this was new. Was it real? Or was it just something new that his mind was conjuring up? The humming vibration grew louder and Sam was seriously contemplating shouting out to try and get Dean’s attention, embarrassment be damned if he found out this wasn’t real, when a sudden bright light cut him off. He gave a hoarse cry and threw his arm over his eyes just as the light exploded in the room and the vibrations reached their deepest pitch yet. Then, just as the light flashed away, the vibrations vanished.

Sam slowly lowered his arm and blinked his eyes a few times to clear them of the spots there. His other hand tightened on the blade he still held. What he found when he could see again wasn’t quite what he’d expected to see.

There, lying in the middle of the floor in a sprawl of long limbs and messy caramel hair, was a girl.

What the hell?

The limbs started to move and a pained moan came from the girl. “Oh, damn, that _hurt_.” She groaned, pushing up from the ground and straightening herself up. Sam got a better look at her then and saw that she was much taller than he’d realized before. Not as tall as him, but close to if not an inch or two taller than Dean’s height. His eyes ran over her in the hopes of somehow maybe recognizing who she was. There was something, almost familiar about her. She was dressed simply, in blue jeans, a white tank top and a black hoodie open over it, with flat boots that came almost to her knees and were held on by two wide straps and buckles. It was her face that held his gaze, though. She lifted one slender hand and pushed her long hair back, giving him a clear look of her face. She had wide eyes that were a mix of brown and gold, with just a hint of green, and full pouty lips set in a heart shaped face. There was something there…something in the curve of her lips, the way they quirked up even as she was grumbling to herself and dusting off her clothes, that teased at the edges of his mind, a vanishing thought there and gone again.

Sam held himself loose and ready on the bed, the knife still held in his hand. Real or fake, he was going to be prepared. He wasn’t going to let the fact that this was a pretty young woman stop him if he had to defend himself. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that female meant less dangerous. “Who are you?” He demanded, finding his voice for the first time since she’d landed.

Her eyes snapped to him and he saw awareness flash there. “Oh, thank you!” She said with obvious relief. “At least I landed right.” Then her face softened into something kinder, something warmer. “I’ll answer your questions in just a moment. Your brother will be here in a second and I’d rather only explain all this once. Besides, you’d probably like the confirmation that I’m actually real, am I right?”

He almost flinched back from that. He couldn’t deny the truth of it, though. Not that he’d ever hallucinated anything like this before, but, well, that didn’t mean it _couldn’t_ happen. Unconsciously, he pressed against the scar on his palm. The look she gave him softened into something that looked pained. There was no chance for her to say anything more, though. The door burst open and Dean shot in, gun already held at the ready. The minute his eyes landed on the girl and narrowed, a part of Sam relaxed, at least a little. _She’s real._

“Woah now.” She held her hands up in a gesture meant to show peace and that she was unarmed. Yet, she didn’t seem the least bit afraid. If anything, she looked—amused. Golden brown eyes were looking at Dean and twinkling with mirth. There was something, something about that smirk, that Sam couldn’t quite place.

“Who’re you?” Dean demanded. “An how’d you get in our room?”

The girl’s smirk grew a little wider. “Right to it, then. All right. This ought to be fun. My name’s Raya.” She moved her eyes away from Dean and brought them back to Sam, who was still stupidly sitting on his bed for some reason he didn’t quite understand. Again, her look became softer, warmer. Then all thought was shoved out of Sam’s head as she told him “Raya Winchester. I’m your daughter. And I’m here because Mor sent me back in time so I could save his ass and pretty much make sure I get born.”

* * *

 _What the hell?_ Sam went completely still. His…his _daughter_? His eyes slid to Dean, needing to see if his brother was hearing this too. He needed the confirmation that this was real.

Dean looked just as stunned as he did. “His daughter?”

Her smirk came back as she turned towards Dean again. “Yep.”

“Bullshit.” Dean snapped. Still, he lowered his gun, keeping it held ready at his side just in case he had to lift it again. “Sam doesn’t have any kids. He’s not even dating anyone. We don’t have time for that.”

One eyebrow arched over those stunning eyes and Sam swore even more that there was something familiar about her as her whole expression turned mocking. “Wow. I’ve never known you to be this slow, Uncle Dean. You did hear the part where I said that Mor sent me _back in time_ , right? I haven’t been born yet. Mor and Dad aren’t even _together_ yet.”

“Dean.” Sam spoke up for the first time. His voice had been locked in his throat this entire time but he found it now, pushing past the shock to try and function. He couldn’t just cower here on the bed and let his brother take care of everything. “Maybe we should hear her out. Hear what she has to say.”

Dean spun to look at him with surprise. “You think she’s telling the truth?”

“I think we can’t take the chance she’s not.” Sam said simply. “If it’s true and we do nothing…”

He didn’t have to finish that thought for Dean to understand it. His brother sighed and nodded at him. “Yeah, yeah.” He said, flicking the safety back on his gun and sliding it into the back of his pants once more. Then his sharp green eyes snapped back to Raya, who was still standing in the same place, watching them with something that was between affection and amusement. “Fine. We’ll listen, but we aint promising anything. Just, have a seat and get talking.”

Sam tried not to roll his eyes. _Stubborn, pig-headed jerk_. Fond annoyance washed over him as he watched his brother drop down onto the other bed. That was one thing he could always count on—Dean’s gruff way of dealing with pretty much anything. _Stone number one_. He smiled slightly to himself. That smile turned once more to a look of surprise when Raya took Dean’s invitation to have a seat as permission to fold herself down onto the foot of Sam’s bed without an ounce of hesitation. “There are some things I’m not gonna be able to tell you.” She warned them, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs. “You guys have time traveled, you understand. But, like I said, I’m here to save Mor’s ass and make sure he’s around so my future can still exist.”

“You said he.” Sam pointed out. He tilted his head to watch her, wondering why he didn’t feel awkward with her sitting so close to him. “Mor, that means Mom if I remember right. You used ‘Mom’, but you said ‘him’.”

She flashed him a bright grin and Sam startled when he saw dimples just like his own flashing at him. “Figured you’d catch that. Technically, Mor is a he. But, to have us, he had to turn female for a while, and from what I’ve been told, Uncle Dean over there thought it was funny to call him the Mom and didn’t let it go even after he switched back.” She cast an affectionate look Dean’s way and then looked back at Sam. “Not like Mor really cares anyways. Gender’s sort of a fluid thing for him.”

It only took a second for that to connect in Sam’s head. Everything slid into place and it was like a loud mental _click_. A father she called ‘Mor’—which if Sam remembered right was the Norwegian word for Mother—who had a fluid sort of view on gender, who could change from male to female and back again. Her smirk, the familiarity to her looks, the way she acted, the way she _spoke_. Ever her eyes—that bit of gold mixed in with the brown and green. One name came to mind and rang through him with an ache that he had never shared with anyone.

 _Gabriel_.

The trickster who had taunted and teased them, who had tortured him through Mystery Spot, who had put them through that ridiculous TV Land and turned Sam into a damn _car_. The archangel who had stood in a ring of fire and looked like his heart was breaking when he told them that he just wanted it to be over, who had come for them at Elysian Fields, who had fought his brother for them and died for them. The one who had starred in so many of Sam’s dreams back then, but that he’d never once believed he even stood a chance with. Didn’t believe he _deserved_ a chance with.

While Sam froze, his mind racing with his realization, Dean was putting together the pieces as well, albeit a little slower. “You’re…you’re talking about an angel, aren’t you?” He looked over at Sam’s stunned face and then back to Raya. “Your Mom’s an angel? Who had a kid…with _Sam_?”

A scowl crossed Raya’s face and she sat up. Her shoulders squared in a way that Sam had always associated with an angel ruffling their wings. “Why do you sound so stupefied by that? What, you think Dad’s not good enough for an angel?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You sure sounded like you were implying it.” Raya snapped back. She glared, and even Dean was stunned right then by just how much she looked like a pissed off Sam. “Dad’s one of the greatest, smartest, best people I’ve ever known and Mor says all the time that he doesn’t know how he got so lucky for Dad to pick someone like him.”

Dean held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Yank those claws in, tiger. I wasn’t after insulting your Dad. It’s just, angels aren’t exactly fond of either one of us, and they seem to have a particular hate on for Sasquatch over there.”

“Not all of them.” Raya said, and she was relaxing once more, temper vanishing from her face when she was sure that it wasn’t Sam that Dean was insulting.

Dean turned to look at Sam, then, and his face was tight with the idea of Sam keeping secrets from him again. “You got yourself some angel lover out there you haven’t told me about, Sam?” His tone was probably meant to be teasing but was just this side of not and it sent a spike of pain through Sam. Pain that his brother still wasn’t trusting him, pain thinking of the one he’d always wanted to have and never believed he would, and pain of the angel lover he _had_ had whether he’d like it or not. “No.” He said in a voice far firmer than he’d thought he’d manage. “No, I don’t.”

A too familiar laugh echoed through the room and Sam couldn’t stop the way his body flinched from it. “ _Aw, Sammy! You haven’t told your brother about all our beautiful times together? I’m crushed! We had so much_ fun _!_ ”

Closing his eyes, Sam fought back the shiver, fought not to grab hold of his hand and press until Lucifer vanished.

The flinch and the small twitch towards his hand, plus the color that he’d lost, hadn’t been missed by Dean. The older Winchester cursed himself for saying something so casually without thinking first. He may not have known details of Sam’s hell, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any idea. He’d been to hell himself and knew how they tortured. He’d been there on the nights that the nightmares woke Sam up.

After a shaky breath, Sam made himself open his eyes, made himself look at this girl that, now that it had been pointed out to him, looked so much like the archangel he’d never had that it was physically painful for him to see, and he tried not to let the ache in his heart grow any bigger. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a mistake.”

“What?” Dean asked. Raya, for her part, was only watching him sadly, not looking the least bit surprised.

Nearby Lucifer laughed, and Sam did _not_ turn to look over that direction. He curled his hands in, fingernails cutting into his palms, and kept his eyes on Raya. “Either you’ve messed up in your time travel and hit a different dimension, or you’re tricking us. Either way, you’re not mine, and we can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

She gave a small nod like she’d expected that. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because I promised myself years ago I wasn’t going to curse any child with my blood.” Sam said flat out. “And because I know who you look like and I can guarantee you, the last thing Gabriel would want is to have anything to do with something like _me_.”

There were so many parts of that that Dean could latch on to. First and foremost was his brother referring to himself as some _thing_ and not some _one_. That was a lot Dean could say about that and none of it nice. He _hated_ how his brother saw himself. But that was a conversation for when they were alone, not something to be aired out in front of this stranger who claimed to be Sam’s freaking daughter. What part he focused on instead was the one that shocked the hell out of him. “Did you say Gabriel?” His eyes went wide with realization and snapped back and forth between Raya and Sam as all the pieces fell into place and his brain finally caught up with the rest of the room. “Oh, no! _Hell_ no! You’re telling me _Gabriel_ is your _Mom_?”

Sam knew his brother was smart; a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. But there were times he could miss what was right in front of him, especially when he was already annoyed to begin with, until it was practically shoved into his face. Apparently Dean hadn’t figured out who Raya looked like until Sam had said his name. Now that it hit, he looked even more upset than before, and Sam knew this was going to be one epic explosion. Those two had gotten along like oil and water. Secretly, Sam thought it was because they were quite a bit alike.

As if the glee in Raya’s face at Dean’s obvious discomfort wasn’t enough of an answer, she grinned broadly and gave a cheerful “Yep!” Pausing, she tipped her head to the side, shrugging that shoulder. “Or, y’know, he will be, once we bring him back.”

Oh yeah. Sam could definitely see Gabriel in her. He’d taken the same enjoyment in driving them crazy.

“Hell no!” Dean shouted again. “We are not resurrecting that douchebag so he can go bang my baby brother!”

“You sure about that, Uncle Dean?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Damn right I’m sure!”

“Hey.” Sam interrupted them, waving a hand to draw their attention back towards him. “Don’t I get a vote in this?”

“No!” Dean snapped at the same time that Raya said “Of course!”

Dean shot her another glare before turning his gaze to his brother. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about agreeing with this, Sam? Last I checked, you didn’t even _like_ that douche!”

“Hey! That’s my Mor you’re talking about, asshole.” Raya reminded him with just a hint of sharpness in her voice.

This conversation was quickly devolving into what had the potential to be one hell of a fight if they didn’t get it under control here quickly. That meant that Sam was going to have to step in and play the role of peacemaker. Some days, he couldn’t help but think that Dean fought with so many people on purpose as a sort of twisted revenge against Sam for all the times he’d been forced to play peacemaker between him and their Dad. It’d taught him a bit of respect for what his brother had been forced to put up with back then. “Why don’t we calm down and talk about this like adults?” Sam suggested as calmly as he could manage. When Dean shot him a sharp look, he quickly held up a hand in a gesture of peace. “Just a minute, Dean. Think this through. I’m not saying that we should bring him back and that I’m just gonna jump right in bed with him. Like I said, I don’t have any plans on having children, no matter who they’re with. I’m sorry.” That last part he directed to Raya, who just shrugged as if to say ‘whatever’. “But think of the benefits, Dean. Not only would we be bringing back someone who died for us, helping us escape, but we’d be bringing back a potentially powerful ally. That’s not something we can just ignore right now.”

 _“Yeah, sure,_ ” Lucifer’s voice sniggered from nearby. _“Those are the reasons you want him back. Riiiiight.”_

“We don’t need his help!” Dean insisted. Sam took it as a positive sign that his brother didn’t sound quite as sure as he did before.

Raya made an amused sound low in her throat. “Seriously?” She snorted and shook her head. “So, you’re saying you guys don’t want Mor’s help with stopping the leviathan? Or fixing Dad’s head? Or saving Uncle Cas?”

In a flash, Dean froze, whatever he’d been about to say dying on his lips. He turned towards her slowly and fixed her with his most serious look yet. “What?”

Absently, Sam wondered which part of that had snagged Dean’s attention the most. Taking down Dick Roman, fixing up Sam’s head—or saving Castiel. All three ideas had Sam’s attention.

“I can’t tell you all the details of it, but I can tell you that, in my time, Mor does all those things. He’s an _archangel_ , Uncle. You think he doesn’t know how to take down creatures he once helped lock away? Or that he doesn’t know some way to help Dad get his head screwed back on straight?” Her voice changed a little for the last, for the one that they all knew was as important to Dean as taking care of his brother, maybe even more so in some ways. “Uncle Cas isn’t dead, but he’s not okay, either, and it’ll take more than mortal medicine to help him get better.”

That was the moment when Sam knew that Raya had him hooked. The both of them, really. The terrifying idea that this woman really was a daughter of his was something that Sam couldn’t let himself think about. But the rest of it? Stopping the Leviathan, saving Castiel, fixing his head—those were things he could think about. Those were amazing things. If Gabriel could do even one of them, didn’t they owe it to themselves to try? Besides which, like Sam had pointed out before, the archangel had died for them. He’d died giving them a chance to get away safely. If they had a chance to bring him back and repay him that favor, could they rightfully turn it away?

The brothers locked eyes for a moment. Sam could see on his brother’s face just what Dean wanted to do even if he was torn about it. There wasn’t really any other answer that either one of them could give. Personal feelings aside, this was the right thing to do. “We owe him.” Sam said softly.

Dean let out a low sigh and gave a miniscule nod. Then he turned back to Raya, who was watching them with a curious sort of interest. “All right.” He told her. “We’re in. We’ll help bring your ‘Mom’ back to life. But that’s it! We’re not signing Sammy here up for Daddy duty.”

She seemed surprisingly calm about that. “No prob. That part of things isn’t my business. I’m just here to make sure Mor gets brought back, that’s all. After that,” She spread her hands and grinned widely at them. “It’s up to them.”

“Right.” Dean snorted out. Shaking his head, he pushed up to his feet. “I aint doing this on an empty stomach. Let’s go get something to eat and you can tell us what kind of hoops we gotta jump through.”

As Sam and Raya both moved to join Dean, the young woman tossed a wink Sam’s way and he found himself smiling before he realized it. Whatever was going to happen next, he had a feeling it was going to be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam crawls his way out of hell, but he's definitely not the same man that went in. So God resurrected an old friend to keep an eye on him

“We don’t need your help.”

“Really? You sure about that, bucko?” Gabriel asked sarcastically. “I mean, your brother just clawed his way up out of hell straight from the Cage, but oh, I’m sure he’s just hunky dory.” “When Sam wakes up, he’s not gonna be the same. You’ve gotta understand that. He spent too long wrapped up in Lucifer’s grace. Anything human in him has changed.”

“Changed? What do you mean?”

“When a human soul spends time in hell, what happens, Deano?” He watched the light go off and nodded. “That’s right. They turn demon. Sam spent thousands of years down there with Mike and Luci. The demon blood already tainted his soul, made it just a little bit demon, and his time in hell helped with that, but having Luci’s grace there kept him from going full demon. He’s a perfect hybrid now – half demon, half angel.”

“He’s not… he’s not human.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Oh, get over yourself.” Snapping himself up a sucker, he leaned back a little and fixed Dean and Lisa both with a hard stare. “That kid down there – he’s a hero. If anyone in the churches actually knew what was going on your brother would be canonized and listed with some of the great martyrs of our time. He signed himself up for what he was sure was eternal torment so that the world could be saved. Doesn’t matter if he caused some of it. He fixed it an he gave himself up to do it. That would pretty much sign him up for sainthood.”

“Yeah, except apparently not.” Dean shot back. “Seeing as how you’re telling me he’s coming back as some half demon hybrid.”

“Seriously? It’s like that’s all you heard.” Sighing gustily, Gabriel shook his head. “Half demon, half _angel_. He’s got the best of both worlds rolling around inside of him, Winchester. Two things that perfectly balance one another. Who better to teach him that balance than a trickster-slash-archangel? Better he learns to control it safely before he breaks something or someone on accident.”

“He’s gonna have powers, too?”

“Yep.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Sammy doesn’t exactly handle power all that well.”

“Have a little Faith.”

All of a sudden Gabriel straightened up and his eyes went just a bit distance. Then he flashed them a smirk and snapped his sucker gone. “Talking time is over, kiddies. My new charge awaits.”

Instead of snapping, he actually walked his way in there. The last thing he wanted to do was startle Sam with a flare of power right next to him. Not exactly the brightest plan.

They found Sam moved for the first time in days. He wants lying stretched out anymore. Instead, his body had curled in as tight as possible. It made him look unnaturally small lying there on the bed. Lisa made a pained sound at the sight of it and Dean looked like someone had hit him. Gabriel, however, sighed and he suddenly looked so much softer to the two humans watching. “Ah, kiddo.” The archangel murmured. He took a few steps towards the bed and then reached out for Sam.

What happened next wasn’t what the humans had expected.

Sam went from zero to sixty in just the blink of an eye. One moment he was lying there and the next he had hold of Gabriel’s wrist and was using it to actually flip the archangel onto the bed. Another blink and he had his body plastered over Gabriel’s with a blade pointed at his throat that he’d seemingly drawn from nowhere.

Hunters reflexes kicked in and Dean yanked himself out of his shock and tried to move forward, only to be stopped by a sharp “No!” from Gabriel. It could’ve been directed towards Sam if it hadn’t been for the hand he shot out towards Dean.

Only when he was sure Dean was staying back did Gabriel drop that hand. The whole time, his eyes never left Sam’s. He laid there and didn’t fight back in the least bit. He didn’t even look afraid as he stared up at the being holding him down. “Hello to you too, big boy.” His tone was just the right shade of teasing, open and easy in a way that didn’t quite seem possible when one was lying with a blade at their throat. Then his lips curved up into a smirk that was pure Loki. “If this is your way of saying thanks for saving your bacon back at that hotel, you could lose the knife and we could make this a whole lot more interesting.”

A low growling sound rumbled out of Sam and suddenly the room around them seemed to vibrate a little. The air was charged with some kind of energy. “You’re not him.”

Gabriel made a show of moving his eyes down towards his body and then back up to Sam’s face. “Funny. Feels like me. Looks like me, too.”

The blade pressed a little closer. “We killed him.”

The ‘we’ stuck out loudly in that remark. It rang in the room and had Dean sucking in a sharp breath that was the only clue of the fear hidden underneath. Gabriel, however, didn’t flinch at all. “Dad brought me back.” Smiling, the archangel tilted his head, not the least bit worried by the blade still there. He batted his eyes in a completely over-the-top gesture. “Didn’t you miss me, gorgeous?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A possible continuance of "The Ultimate Sacrifice"

A pulse in Gabriel’s grace was the only warning Sam got before they vanished from the bunker. Since he’d changed, flight hadn’t been something that Sam had attempted yet since his wings were still hidden away, nor had he flown with anyone else. To say the experience was exhilarating was a vast understatement. Always before he’d felt a bit off kilter when flying with Castiel. It’d left his stomach lurching and his head spinning just a bit, though he never had the problem that Dean did with it. But this? This was so very different. He _felt_ as they moved from one place to the next in every single cell of his vessel. His grace, cocooned safely in Gabriel’s, hummed with the excitement he felt at the idea of trying that on his own, and his wings itched to extend for the very first time.

Connected the way that they were right now, there was no hiding what he felt from Gabriel. Not that he would’ve. There was no reason to hide happiness.

Gabriel laughed against his lips and that felt strangely appropriate for them.

They broke apart and Sam got his first real look around him. Somehow, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that Gabriel had flown them straight to a bedroom. There were so many questions that Sam wanted to ask and yet none of them seemed anywhere near as important as this amazing being that was still wrapped so wholly around him. His own grace was still singing of _love_ and _home_ but there was a heat to it as well, this glorious amazing heat that was practically overflowing from his vessel. It wanted only one thing and Sam didn’t hesitate to take it. Any questions could wait. There was nothing more important than the warmth of that familiar laughing face cupped between his hands or the pleasure that came as he bent down and captured the lips that had owned him so completely only moments before.

Gabriel poured himself into the kiss that was quickly growing more and more heated. Hands, wings and grace, he pulled Sam as close as they could get, pressing them together, and it still wasn’t close enough. The way their graces were touching and sliding over one another was more intimate than any physical act that Sam had ever been a part of. He’d never felt so open and exposed and yet cradled and safe in his entire life.

They pulled back once more and Sam found there was one question that just couldn’t wait. One that tumbled past his lips as he looked at a being that had once starred in a few very private fantasies of his. “How…how are you alive?” The last they had known, Lucifer had killed him.

A little quiver ran through Gabriel’s grace and Sam felt his sorrow. He reacted instinctively to it, pressing his own grace out in return, sending waves of _comfort_ and _safety_ and _love_ until Gabriel’s grace was once more singing brightly to him, any traces of sorrow gone. “It was Dad.” Gabriel answered him. “I woke up a few days back out in the middle of a field with Dad right there. He didn’t give me the rundown on much except that somehow everyone got booted out of Heaven and I had to come find you guys to help fix it. He didn’t tell me what happened, and He definitely didn’t mention _this_.” His eyes ran over Sam making it clear what he’d meant by ‘this’.

Oh, wow. So basically God hadn’t told him _anything_. Sam rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and contemplated if he’d get in trouble for growling at God now that he was an angel. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

He looked back down to find Gabriel watching him curiously. That heat was still there, though, and this all-consuming _need_ to wrap up entirely in his mate and forget the world around them. He wanted Gabriel like he’d never wanted anyone or anything. It wasn’t just physical, though his body was achingly hard. It all seemed centered in his grace; in the way his and Gabriel’s grace were still twining around one another, wrapping together like they were trying to merge into one.

“It’s a bonding.” Gabriel said, breaking into Sam’s thoughts. “We’re mates; we’ve always been mates. It’s why we were so drawn to one another. Our graces want to complete the bonding. If we do, we’ll be linked, bonded, for the rest of our existence.”

Bonded to Gabriel for the rest of his life? There was a part of Sam, the part that retained the most of his humanity, that questioned the idea of being mated to a trickster who had once tortured him and his brother, but it was overshadowed by that pressing need to merge and connect with the amazing being. One who he couldn’t deny that he had always felt some kind of attraction to. Someone who, under different circumstances, he could’ve come to care deeply for. Like Jess had once been for him, Gabriel was the opposite of Sam in some ways, the light to the darker parts of Sam, forcing him to see the joy and happiness in life instead of the pain and anger. But, unlike Jess, Gabriel had darkness of his own, one that only made him all the more appealing to Sam. He’d understand in ways no one else could.

Heat flared bright in Gabriel’s eyes. A flash of grace and power that would’ve blinded a human Sam but now only served to make his own grace flare brighter. Three sets of wings stretched wide and glorious in this amazingly large bedroom in a display that left Sam breathless. “I want to hear that long story. But much later. Right now, I want to wrap you up in grace and wings and vessel and climb inside you until there’s no way to tell us apart. If that’s not something you want, walk away now, Samuel. This is your only chance.” Gabriel spoke in a voice that was thicker, deeper, than Sam had ever heard it, and was ringing with the echoes of his True Voice. It was like thunder and trumpets, oceans deep and light as a cloud. So many different things all rolled into one in a way that was beyond intoxicating.

The idea of walking away made Sam _hurt_. A whimper slid past his lips and he pressed himself in close against his mate.

This didn’t make sense to the part of his brain that still thought like a human, but to this new part of him, to the angel he’d become, it all felt so right, so damn perfect, he couldn’t even think of walking away. Could think of nothing he wanted more than to be here, now, with Gabriel.

The sound of his whimper had Gabriel reacting almost instantly. Sam found himself caught up and yanked in close and tight against Gabriel and then his lips were being captured in a kiss that bordered on feral. Sam didn’t resist. He let himself melt against the archangel, arms up to wrap around his neck and hold on as his mouth was _ravaged_. Grace swirled over and around his with little fire bursts of pleasure that had Sam moaning throatily.

Firm hands settled on his hips and drew him in even closer. Gabriel broke their kiss and took a step backwards. “If we were home, in Heaven, this would be different.” He drew them back towards the bed, pulling Sam with him. “Our true forms would merge and the bond would form that way. But since we’re here, on Earth, in vessels…” The back of Gabriel’s thighs pressed against the bed and he grinned before he dropped himself down, tugging Sam down with him with so that the two tumbled together onto the lush bed. Smirking, Gabriel slid his hands off Sam’s hips, down to his thighs, and tugged until Sam was straddling his lap. “…we get to do this the fun way.”

The archangel surged up and caught Sam’s mouth once more and this time Sam gave as good as he got. His hands, which had braced on Gabriel’s shoulders as they’d fallen, now slid down his arms and back up, moving down his chest to slip underneath his jacket so he could slide them over a chest that was firmer than he’d thought it would be. A snap was his only warning before suddenly they were both naked from the waist up. Sam made a happy sound into their kiss and let his hands start to feel over all this new skin. It was nothing like any past partner he’d ever had. His hands felt so much more, took in so much more detail, felt so much more pleasure. He could feel every little hitch of Gabriel’s unneeded breaths, every quiver as Sam found a sensitive spot. When he traced his thumbs over pert nipples, he tasted the moan that Gabriel let into their kiss and he reveled in it.

One thing Sam had definitely never thought about before was just how amazing and insane a kiss could be when you had no true need to breathe. There was no pressure in his chest, no need to break away to suck in a desperate breath. Just lips pressed together, tongues slipping in and out to chase one another, tasting and teasing and sending that heat higher.

The hands on his thighs had moved up when Gabriel snapped their shirts away and they skated over his sides with a burning touch that Sam arched into. But then they moved to his spine and traced over the bumps of it, right up to his shoulders where they pressed in just right and pleasure like he’d never known before ran through his grace. Sam broke their kiss to drop his head and moan deeply even as he pressed his back up in hopes of deepening that _amazing_ touch just, right there, _right there_!

A husky chuckle sounded right by his ear, blowing little bits of his hair back. Gabriel scraped his nails lightly over Sam’s spine right between his shoulder blades and the pleasure was more intense than ever. “Shit.” Sam gasped out. His hands were on Gabriel’s shoulders again, clenching down as he shuddered. “ _Gabriel_.”

“Mm. I like when you say my name like that.” He scratched again, oh-so-lightly, and chuckled when Sam moaned brokenly. “Feels good, doesn’t it? I can feel your wings quivering right under the surface. Why don’t you let em out to play, hm? I bet they’re gorgeous.”

Nothing could be as gorgeous as Gabriel’s wings spread out so proudly behind him. If Sam was capable of doing more than moaning and writhing in Gabriel’s lap right then from the pleasure of having that spot stroked, he would’ve reached out and slid his hands into Gabriel’s beautiful wings, touching and teasing them in return. But the pleasure was burning its way through him and he could feel what Gabriel was talking about, feel his wings quivering inside of his vessel stronger than ever before. This wasn’t just an itch to let them go. They were _aching_ to be set free. Shuddering again, Sam bit down on the meat of Gabriel’s shoulder, pleased that it made the man suck in a breath. He released his bite to turn and brush his nose over the long expanse of neck right there. “I don’t,” He paused, humming lowly as talented fingers stroked just below that spot, still pleasant but not overwhelming. “I don’t know how. I haven’t, yet.”

There was only a second where Gabriel’s fingers faltered in their strokes. Then Sam felt the swell of _pleased_ that ran through his mate. “You haven’t?” Gabriel repeated. “At all?”

“Mm.” His tongue flicked out and tasted the salt and sweet of Gabriel’s skin. It was a taste he could get addicted to. “Not yet.”

“Oh, kiddo, this is going to be so much fun.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer Reid has a special Guardian Angel (Fem!Gabriel)

The door snapped open and Spencer looked over just as a familiar honey-haired woman came flying in the room. She didn’t waste a second for the others in there. Ignoring them completely, she marched right up to Spencer's bedside. “What fool thing did you do to yourself now, Spencer? I swear, I let you out of my sight for five minutes and you go and end up in a _hospital_?”

“I think it was longer than five minutes, Gabby.” Still, Spencer's lips quirked up a little. He was just as happy to see her as always. Carefully, he lifted his arms to hug her back when she leaned in against him. She held him close briefly before pulling back. One of her hands came up to smooth his hair back from his face. He let himself press ever so slightly against her palm. “I’m okay, really.”

She wrinkled her nose at him and then gave him a deliberate head to toe look. “Your definition of ‘okay’ needs some work, kitten.” She slid her hand down from his face to his chest and just rested her palm over his heart in a way he knew she used just to remind herself that his heart was still beating and he was still breathing. Her eyes sharpened as they snapped up to the two hunters standing on the edge of the room. “I notice you two are magically uninjured. Where were you when he was getting hurt, huh?”

Spencer reached up quickly and laid his hand over the one Gabby had on his chest. “Gabby, don’t. They took out the cult.”

“While you were doing what, exactly?” She demanded.

“Taking out the altar.”

“And knowing you, getting out the sacrifice, am I right?” She looked at his face and snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t downplay yourself to me, sugar. I know you way too well for that bull to work on me.” Gabby turned enough to shoot a glare at the brothers over her shoulder. “ _Someone_ should’ve had your back while you did it.” Turning back towards him again, her face softened a little. She tapped one manicured finger over his heart but left the rest of her hand still lying flat there. “See? This is why you don’t go on these things without me. Or without _letting me know_. Who’s gonna watch that nonexistent backside for you, hm?”

“Who else is going to both insult me _and_ defend me all in the same moment?” Spencer shot back in a dry voice.

She didn’t even attempt to deny it. “Exactly! So next time, _call me,_ kitten, before you get to this point.”

He dropped his eyes down and kept the words locked inside that he knew she wouldn’t like to hear. He should’ve known better, though. Even if he didn’t say the thoughts out loud it didn’t mean she didn’t hear them. Gabby had no qualms about listening to the thoughts that raced through his head. She didn’t always comment on them—she respected his privacy too much for that—but he felt her reaction this time as she overheard his thoughts about not wanting to bother her, not wanting to be a burden to yet another person. About how she had much better things to do with her time than follow after _him._ He knew just by the flinch in her hand that if he looked up he’d find her eyes sparking with the temper she didn’t often let show around him.

Her hand slid up to cup his cheek and tilt his face up so that he was forced to look at her. There was temper there but it was tempered by open affection and an ancient sadness that always showed when his insecurities rose to the surface. He held himself still and didn’t flinch, knowing that the temper he saw wasn’t directed at him.

Gabby made a low sound in her throat and bent herself down to press a kiss against his forehead. “Never at you, Penny Pie.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU Verse (Spencer and Lucifer friendship)

“Yo, Spencer! You got a visitor!”

There was an odd quality to Alec’s words that had Spencer frowning curiously at the door. He closed his book and pushed up from his chair. Who was stopping by to see him? If it were Castiel, Alec would’ve just sent him straight back. He wouldn’t have bothered to even call out to Spencer. Whoever this was, it was someone Alec didn’t want to send back to Spencer.

He understood why just a moment later. There in the living room, seated on the arm of a chair and looking every inch the shark he was known to be, was Lucifer Novak. He looked completely comfortable sitting there waiting for Spencer. In contrast, Alec looked highly uncomfortable, Parker looked indifferent, and Eliot looked like he was ready to start busting open some heads any second now. Quite the group to walk in on. It had Spencer standing back just slightly awkwardly. He was saved from having to say anything by Lucifer. Cool blue eyes found Spencer almost the instant he was there and then a smile replaced the amused smirk he’d been wearing. “There you are.”

“I didn’t know you were in town again.” Spencer said by way of greeting. He winced a little as soon as the words were out of his mouth, realizing how rude they probably sounded, but Lucifer’s grin only widened as he answered. “I’m in town to meet with a prospective client and I found myself with a bit of down time. I thought I’d drop by to see my favorite genius.”

Spencer's eyebrows went up with surprise. “Since you’re here, I’m assuming Castiel’s busy, then?”

The laugh Lucifer let out was low and smooth. His eyes showed his actual mirth, though. “Such modesty, Spencer.” Shaking his head, he pushed up off the arm of the chair, pausing only to brush some imaginary bit of lint or dust or whatever from his pants. “I find myself without a lunch partner and I’m in no mood to eat alone. Go and get your coat and you can entertain me with tales of my brothers through lunch, after which I can drop you off with Gabriel. He’ll be exceedingly paranoid when he discovers we’ve been speaking and we can spend the rest of the afternoon making him sweat over what we might’ve hatched up together and worrying that I’ve besmirched your precious virtue.”

The choked sound that came from the couch had Spencer flushing a little and Lucifer’s grin growing. Looking at the older man, Spencer found himself speaking without thinking, a habit he tried so hard to break himself of. “I think you’re far more aptly named than your parents intended.”

Instead of being offended, Lucifer laughed again. “You’ve got no idea. Go, kitten. Get your coat. Reservations are in ten minutes and I don’t feel like being late because you’re slow.”

The ridiculous nickname combined with the dismissive tone and the impatient snark were all what Spencer was coming to realize were pure Lucifer. It was how he’d talked with Spencer every time they’d been around one another and Spencer was just coming to realize that this was just the way that he was. However, not everyone realized that. As Spencer turned to grab his jacket, he heard someone move near the couches and then Eliot was practically growling at the other man. “You ever heard of asking?” He demanded.

“Good God, no.” Lucifer said immediately. “I never ask. Especially not with family.”

Hurrying, hoping to stave off the argument he could tell was brewing, Spencer snatched his jacket, phone and wallet from his room and then rushed back out to the living room. Lucifer and Eliot were standing about a foot apart from one another and Eliot looked furious while Lucifer just looked amused and a little bored. He was ignoring Eliot completely. When he saw Spencer coming out, he smiled again. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Spencer said. He pulled his jacket on and put both phone and wallet down into his pocket. Casting a look at the others, he had just enough time to tell them “I’ll be back later” before Lucifer’s arm was slung around his shoulders and he was being pulled towards the door. “Come on.” Lucifer said, impatience obvious in his voice. “I’m hungry and I know you must be, too. I don’t understand how Gabriel hasn’t fattened you up yet. You look like a starving refugee.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raising a Cambion (cambion!Spencer, hunter!William)

The day that Spencer Reid was born wasn’t a normal day. It wasn’t a day of happiness and joy and expectance like the birth of most children. His birth wasn’t heralded in by a loving family and a team of doctors while relatives waited nearby for the ‘good news’. In the basement of a house on the outskirts of Las Vegas, far enough away that no one could hear the screams, Diana Williams lay on a towel covered bed, giving birth to a child that shouldn’t exist, one that she knew would be killed if others knew.

She clenched down on the blankets, screaming loudly as the contraction ripped its way through her body. Down between her legs knelt the only man she trusted, the man who had saved her life and the life of the child growing inside of her. The man who had burst into her house two months back when Diana had been nothing more than a voice trapped screaming in the back of her own mind, only able to watch as the man threw what she now knew was holy water at the demon that filled her body and tricked it into a trap before chanting the Latin phrases that had finally set her free. Eight months she’d been trapped like that and he set her free.

He’d explained to her what he was. A Hunter, he’d called himself. She’d seen enough while filled with that demon to know what the word meant. Hunters were something demons feared, people who knew about the supernatural and saved people like her from them. Saved everyone. This Hunter, he’d saved her, and after weeks of pleading, he’d agreed to save the life she carried inside of her as well. This child whose very existence went against the laws of nature. A cambion, he called it, born of a virgin mother possessed by a demon. The things that had been done to her to create this life were enough to have her wake screaming at night. She could never tell him, and he never asked again. But he gave her this vow, that he would protect the child, teach it how to protect itself, and keep her safe.

With blood and pain and tears, a child was born, the raging storm outside heralding his arrival with thunder and flashes of light.

When the squalling baby boy was pressed into Diana’s arms, the pain of the birth fading to the back of her fractured mind, every moment of it worth it. She smiled happily down into the pure black eyes that stared wetly up at her and whispered the name of her baby boy. “Spencer.”

He let out another cry and when he blinked, his eyes turned a normal, human brown.

Down by the foot of the bed, the man who had saved her, who had delivered her child, and who had fallen in love with the stubborn woman before him, smothered his worry. He knew the demons wouldn’t easily give up this child they’d painstakingly created. They would come for him eventually. On that basis alone, he knew he should kill it. Yet, looking at the small bundle, so tiny, so _human_ , he knew he couldn’t. Instead, he would keep his promise to Diana. He would keep them safe.

No matter the cost.

* * *

It wasn’t until little Spencer was five years old that any other powers started to show. The only thing that had showed so far was his ability to change his usually brown eyes over to a pure black. He didn’t always seem able to control when it happened and for that reason, he was kept at home. William wasn’t going to risk taking him out. Not until he knew Spencer had some kind of control. It was at Christmas time and he and his mother were curled together on the couch reading Christmas stories and looking at the newly decorated tree.

Spencer didn’t even realize at first that he’d done anything. One minute he was listening to his mother read about the twinkling lights on the tree and the next moment he heard William’s deep voice nearby, saying a low “Spencer.”

The little boy looked up. William stood by their Christmas tree—a tree whose lights were _glowing_. Spencer's face lit up for a moment at the joy of seeing the very thing he’d just been hearing about, the thing he’d been picturing in his young mind. Then he caught sight of the expression on William’s face and his joy wilted. That wasn’t a happy face. Unconsciously, he leaned back against his mother, chewing on the inside of his lip. “Will’am?” There was still a faint hint of a lisp to the boy’s words, his tongue not quite able to get William’s full name yet.

The Hunter sighed. “I think it’s time we had a talk, sport.”

“William.” Diana said worriedly.

William’s face softened as it always did when he looked at his wife. “It’s fine, Diana. I promised you, remember? I’d keep you safe, and I’d teach him how to be safe. I’m not going to hurt him. But I think it’s time to start teaching him how to be safe.”

Whatever they were talking about had the smart young boy watching them both carefully. He stayed where he was as William came forward and sat down on the other end of the couch. The Hunter didn’t try pulling Spencer away from his mother. Instead, he curled one leg up on the couch and twisted enough to look at them both. “I think it’s time for a different story tonight.”

Too small to notice, Spencer didn’t see the sadness in William’s eyes, the grief he felt for having to strip away the childhood of a boy he’d come to love as if he were his own.

“Let me tell you a story, Spencer. Let me tell you about a being known as a cambion…”

* * *

They never lived in one place for long. Spencer didn’t quite understand it but it was the only life he’d known. He didn’t question it. In Florida, they stayed for two months, and in Mississippi they stayed for four. Six up in Montana, three in Washington. Always in places out of the way. Always somewhere secluded, somewhere they could hide. Because of him, Spencer knew. Because of what he was and what he could do.

And, in some ways, he knew it was because of his mother, too. Because—she wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the woman she’d once been. She wasn’t even the same as Spencer could remember a few years ago. Something had happened to her mind during her possession. It’d changed her, broken her, fractured her mind in ways that no normal human medication would be able to truly control. Leaving her with doctors would put her at risk, William said. It was their job to protect her.

Spencer could do that. He could protect his mother, who had given her life, her sanity, to have him.

He never understood why she would always cry when she woke to find him standing guard near her bed, working on his schoolwork with a shotgun beside his chair.

* * *

“Come on, Spencer, straighten up.” William Reid called out.

The nine year old drew in a breath to steady himself and obediently straightened up his body. He would get this right. He _had_ to get this right. He adjusted his hold on the slender pistol in his hands and sighted just the way that he’d been taught. Another careful breath and then fired— _one, two, three._

He lowered the pistol and looked at the target with that mixed sense of bride and discomfort. His aim was visibly improving.

A firm hand settled on the back of his neck and Spencer looked up to find William watching him with a proud smile on his face. “You’re getting better and better each time we come out here, sport.” The Hunter praised him. They came out each evening, once William’s work was done for the day. Spencer had no clue what job the man held in the city. All he knew was that William left before breakfast each morning and returned in time for dinner at six each night. Whatever he did provided them with money and food. Spencer made up a list of the groceries they’d need each week and William brought them home without fail.

They were back where they’d started. Back in Vegas once more. They’d been here for a few months now and Spencer had to admit this was the most relaxed that he’d seen William be. He’d even allowed Spencer to come to town with him twice since they’d been here. Very rarely did Spencer's eyes change against his will anymore. He could do it on command, but otherwise it only slipped when his emotions got out of control. He’d even learned a measure of control over his powers. It’d been six weeks since he’d done anything ‘magical’ by accident.

‘Don’t use your powers’ was the rule he learned to live by. ‘Not unless it’s an emergency. The last thing we want is to attract the attention of anyone. We can’t risk it.’

They couldn’t risk _him_ , either. Even at nine Spencer knew that. William had never been shy about telling Spencer what was in him and what it could mean for him to use it. There was no denying that Spencer was half demon. While it would seem that the human part of him was the most dominant, William had warned him that it might not be that way. They had no way of knowing. Despite looking, he’d never found anything to indicate that this had happened before. They didn’t know what using his powers would do to him. Would it turn him? Make him dark? Evil? Would it turn him fully into a demon? They just didn’t know. And so Spencer put his powers on lockdown and followed every bit of training William gave him. “I might not always be here to protect you two.” William had told him once. He had to be ready to protect his mother. He had to keep her safe.

* * *

Seven months later, Spencer woke to a note on the table and a quiet house.

_Old friend called – emergency. I’ve got to go. Lock down the house, keep up the wards and the salt lines. There are whispers of big things, apocalyptic things. There’s money in the bank and I’ve set up an arrangement with a trusted friend to deliver supplies once a month._

_Protect your mother and don’t use your powers. I’ll be back as soon as I can._

That was the last time they ever heard from him.

* * *

He was thirteen when their sanctuary was finally broken.

The peace that he’d protected, that William had taught him to guard at all costs, was lost to a swarm of demons. They tore past his defenses, let in by a woman whose mind had been broken by her possession long ago, and nothing in Spencer's life was ever the same again.

Spencer was asleep when it happened. It was something he’d curse himself for over and over in the future. But the day had been long and exhausting and his body needed sleep. It had been one of Diana’s bad days and he’d spent most of it reassuring her that the shadows she saw weren’t real, weren’t going to hurt her, and that the house was locked down and secure. Finally, by the end of the day, he hadn’t had any choice but to slip an extra pill in what little food he got into her. Just something to help her sleep, as he’d had to do so many times before when her mind just couldn’t handle the world. Secure in the knowledge that she was out, he ran one last perimeter check, making sure the wards and the salt lines were all intact. Then and only then did he give in to his body’s urges and go to sleep.

But the bit of medicine that he’d managed to get into Diana wasn’t enough. While Spencer slept, she woke, alone in the dark and afraid, so sure that they were here, that they were coming. She didn’t see Spencer, curled up near the foot of her bed, and in her confusion and panic, she was so sure they’d taken him. One thing that could be said about Diana was that she loved her son. There was no denying it. When she didn’t see him, she pushed past her fear enough to rise from the bed and go look for him. But she was too caught up in her delusions to pay enough attention to everything around her. She never noticed when she checked the front door and her slipper broke the line of salt.

What Spencer saw when he woke was something he would never forget. And it was something that would haunt him for the rest of his life.


End file.
